


2018

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Genre: Coping, Death, Emptiness, F/M, Girlfriend, Hot Chocolate, Loneliness, Loss, Original work - Freeform, Trying, boyfriend - Freeform, depersonalisation, depersonalisation/derealisation, derealisation, fading
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-03-04 06:35:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 44
Words: 11,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13358586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Hi- this isn't well put together. It will be when I fix it.It isn't conherant, it isn't meant to be.Just try and appreciate it.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi- this isn't well put together. It will be when I fix it.   
> It isn't conherant, it isn't meant to be.   
> Just try and appreciate it.

Has your world ever gone silent? You know there are things moving around you, you know the world does exist; but you can’t really feel it? And you scratch at your arms, sift sand through your fingers and grip your forearms because you want to feel some thing, you want to hear something that seems real, not your blood, not you telling yourself to breath, just something  
And then when you hear voices, they’re too loud, see lights, they’re too bright, see darkness its too overcoming, and the cloud of mist and misery is far too much for you to take.  
You want someone to talk you down, to calm you down, for him to be here and for him to say everything right but when he does talk all he does is reaffirm your worries  
He’s going to die.


	2. Day 1

Day 1. Maybe. It’s the twelfth hour after I last saw you. You came over at 3pm ,and stayed until 4:15.  
I began to cry at 3:40.  
You cried first.  
I sat on your lap, straddling you in a quite non-sexual way and held you because your sadness manifested makes me feel the need to protect you. 

I have few words. But I repeat them perhaps too often.  
I miss you. I will miss you. I do miss you.  
I love you. I will love you. I loved you.  
But i love a spirit.  
Someone who has, however, gone.  
In school part of the syllabus is poetry. One of said poems is Remains – Simon Armitage.  
The soldier can’t speak about what he feels, he cant access the real vocabulary.  
I feel like that.  
I can’t speak when I cry. I scramble letters, can’t move my mouth and the planning I put into every word doesn’t help me then.

When I said goodbye today and I had to force out my words out, I couldn’t, I was busy attempting to hide my sobs in my shaking form.  
I failed to speak and I failed to not cry and perhaps I failed you. You said ‘stop shaking’, the way, you’d speak to a frightened kitten. Maybe in that moment that was what I was.  
I didn’t want to do that. I didn't want you to have to see me break.  
But five minutes in my eyes were pricking and  
When I gave you my poems you teared up  
Just a small amount at first until it was more.  
And you were shaking too and I think you knew how I felt then.  
I’ll never talk to you again.  
I can accept that,  
I know why.  
But I’d planned our kids.  
You’d thought about asking me to marry you.  
I said ‘all I ever wanted was to make you happy’ and you’d told me I had.  
Maybe that should be enough.  
You said you wished you’d spent more time with me.  
Well so do I.  
We were far too old for our bodies.  
But now you’re gone.


	3. . . .

You called me brave the last time we met,  
But I crumbled anyway.


	4. Day 2

The issue with privacy  
Is that eventually my dad is going to ask me  
Why I'm so sad over  
Just a break up  
And I'll not know what to say  
Because its so much harder to me honest  
Than to tell him its just over.  
Its still day 1. It feels like day 2, I guess that's because I slept. I slept to hide the pain for a few more hours. To not feel. To not think.  
I'm not crying right now, but I went to sleep crying. I don't know when ill go go sleep happy again.  
I won't be the same again.  
But maybe I don't need to be.  
Maybe I'll be okay.  
He's scent was everywhere in my room and I turned on the ac because it was too hot  
Now it's only in the bathroom and I don't know if that makes me sad.  
He smells amazing.  
Smelt?  
My dad made me rice and peas and tea and fixed my sheets.  
He changed the pillows too and it upset me  
I sound ridiculous.  
I wish I didn't have to endure a day 2.


	5. Day 2

Good morning.  
Its day two, finally. It felt like day three yesterday and day four today.  
My sense of time has always been misaligned to reality. Its day two.  
Today i'm going to school.  
I'll see you all over the walls and desks and pages in my book  
But I'll also see him walking in in the mornings  
And that will perhaps make me cry  
I'm trying not to reach out to him.  
He has things to do and I know his priorities have nothing at all to do with me.  
I spoke with him once, asking if you were gone. asking if he wanted back that game of thrones statue you gave to me in September.  
He said yes and no.  
Sometimes I try not to cry.  
But then I remember everything again.  
And then I cry, and wonder if you're watching over me.  
I think about death a lot, being confronted with it and all. Sometimes I consider committing myself - but no one wants that, especially not you. Its hard to wake up in the mornings and nights though.  
Knowing I'll never be with you again. I'll never hold you and talk to you. 

But I'm going to school today.  
I hope no one's trying to understand this book. You shouldn't know.  
You should be confused, perhaps frustrated at me, the authors awful lack of clarity.  
Maybe I'll be clearer when the fog settles.  
But there's a mask over my face and it seems to choke me far too much for me to speak. 

Everyone romantisises this. Normalises it. But even my mother can't see what this has done to me.  
I wanted to say what 'you have done to me' but I couldn't type it.  
I can't type dead in the right context  
I can't say it either  
I say you've left or  
You're gone  
But you've done more. 

If there's a heaven I hope you're there regardless of me. I couldn't live with myself if I was the reason you weren't.  
I only wanted to make you happy.  
You told me before you went that I did.  
So its less painful perhaps.  
But I'll never give you any more smiles.  
And I can't believe you left me.  
You left me.  
If you see this from up there, I don't know.  
When I type I consider if you're reading along from your spot up in jennah, at least I severely hope you're in jennah.  
Maybe that's not how Islamic theism works. But no articles seem to know, and the qu'ran is a heavy read when the only thing in my mind is sadness.  
If you were reading though I would feel bad.  
I'm not always soft with my words.  
I always tried to be with you. You deserved the softest and nicest things from me if you didn't get them from everywhere else. 

You left me.  
Why did you leave me?  
Why, what did I ever do to deserve this fate?  
Good morning, I guess.


	6. ...

Its 1:27 on day three, but its still day two, its night.  
Hello.  
I spoke to E a little. I don't think you'd want me to dislike him, so I don't.  
He is mean though.  
And he dislikes me.  
I wonder, if you'd not seen me and you'd asked him to see me  
How that would go down.  
If he even would.  
I think he would but with a grudge.  
Maybe he'd be nicer in real life, since its easier to be cold through a screen.  
I went to school today, and laughed and smiled and pretended to be normal.  
Ignored the hole in my heart and soul.  
But its too hard sometimes.  
Most of the time.  
I've began to track my food. Today I had some chocolate, some peas and a hot chocolate. Its not enough but I can't stomach more. 

I've considered staying at school for a while after on certain days, after tutoring, since I can't seem to work at home any more.  
Perhaps it will pass.  
R is coming on the weekend; the R that had the brother who knows you.  
And W may come.  
Then we'll hold a memorial perhaps.  
And I'll go back to bed and wish I had never moved from when you left. 

When you left you tucked me in and walked away.  
And I moved when I heard the door close and collapsed as sobs wracked my body.  
E was kind of mean.  
Maybe that's the point. He asked my why I was still messaging him, though I think he knows the answer.  
He's the closest thing I have left to you.  
Maybe he's angry at the burden of a mourning girl that he himself has no obligation to.  
I'll be nice though. I was never mean to anyone.  
I was just colder.  
Even D, and his crazy ramblings. I was just a little distant.  
I was nicest to you out of anyone in my world.  
And I've cried enough tonight.  
But goodnight.  
Day three might feel different.


	7. Day 3

Now it's day 3. 6:14.  
My room was cold when I woke up. I had the AC on again. You used to like very cold temperatures when you slept.  
I taught you my flipping duvet trick.  
E isn't too bad he just doesn't like me, which is what you said to me but I agree.  
Time seems to be jumping along now.  
Its already day 3.  
It feels like day 1.  
But maybe it doesn't - day 1 was worse than this day. 

I woke up this morning and wish I had gone back to sleep.  
But don't we all, thats not a new feeling for anyone. But last night I wished I would never wake up.  
I haven't done my business work, again.  
Thats now three days.  
My dad asked me how I'm doing. I didn't bother saying anything, I just nodded. Then he starts another conversation.  
He did this yesterday too.  
He doesn't know what happened.  
He thinks we broke up.  
He doesn't understand many things.  
I should probably stop messaging E all together, but I'm like that. You know what I'm like. I don't know describers very well, you always understood what I meant.  
'you get what I mean' and 'you know my thoughts' were our key phrases. And 'comere', 'i love you', 'please don't go'.  
Maybe not the last one.  
That was me at the end.  
I think I made you cry that last time.  
Or maybe it was just the situation.  
I cried far longer, but when do I not.  
I think you tried to be strong for me after you broke.  
I tried the same thing, but I wanted to start crying far before I did. 

I wonder how much E knows.  
What he now has in memories.  
I wonder if that makes him like me more or less.  
Probably less, however who knows.  
With memories come feelings.  
Perhaps that's why he likes me less. I wouldnt want to feel attached to a sort of stranger.  
But then, he's more a stranger to me than I to him.  
It doesn't feel intruding, not really. It takes alot for me to find issue with openness. Unlike you. I was definitely the more open, the more extroverted. I think that was my appeal.  
Its good to see E happy. Smiles differently to you, walks differently.  
I stared a lil. It was interesting. I can't believe you've gone. It hasn't and won't settle in. I can't really say it or believe it.  
But you're not coming back.  
I'll be alone, well, you-less.  
It feels the same.  
I shared so much of my soul with yours that its worse than losing a limb.  
Maybe I'll heal with time though.  
I hope this never happens again.  
Goodbye, I love you.


	8. ...

Hello again. I haven't cried today and it feels like I'm wronging you.  
But then I haven't written yet today.  
I'm very tired.  
I havent been eating much, you know why. I loose my appetite when I'm sad or worried.  
I've messages E a few times today that could be passed off as unassuming.  
I want him to reply.  
He hasn't.  
I suppose it's okay - I'll message him after the 20th.  
I think what I want it to have a friendship with him, regardless of how impractical it may be.  
I still can't believe you've gone. I talked to W and she and B were nice and helpful.  
No one knows what advise to give.  
But then who would?  
I'll never look into your eyes and feel such wonder again. Never brush my hands through your hair.  
I still call you Daddy to the cats. I'm happy they don't speak Arabic or English because they don't need to know what I'm telling them.  
You'll never see my writing again. You'll never finish AOTF.  
You'll never do anything again.  
I hope so badly you're in jennah. You had a hard enough life without awaiting jahenem.  
If you are it will be largely due to me, that i'm eternally sorry for.  
You wouldn't want me to apologise though.  
It was a joint decision, I never regretted it though.  
One of the last things you said to me was 'I love you'.  
I love you too. Far too much for you to have left me. 

With all the happiness I tried to pour into you it hurts to see that I didn't fully succeed.  
How would someone leave if I had?  
Its not my fault. I know that. I tried so hard to make you stay.  
But at the end of the day all thats left is midnight sobbing and a grumpy-seeming E.  
I haven't left my room other than for food or for school.  
I come home and sleep as much as I can before I'm forced awake to write my journals, eat some food and message my friends.  
I feel... Indescribable.  
Who could describe this? 

I don't want to lie to my sister but telling A, B and W feels like a betrayal to you.  
Perhaps I'll simplify it. She doesn't deserve dishonesty.  
Goodnight, Darling.


	9. Day 4

Hey,  
Its me again.  
I love you. 

Today I didn't cry too much. But I cried less yesterday, I was asleep more yesterday. I don't want to stop crying - it would feel like a betrayal. Like if was forgetting you. Forgetting everything that made me love you simply just so fucking much. You brought so much good to my life, and I really hope I did the same.  
But the question still remains about weather I did my job right.  
Its not my fault, I know. But its easy to think it is. I don't really blame myself but I do. I just wish you hadn't left me. Hadn't left everything here, everything that's so important.  
And in such a rush. You weren't planned or organised and I think it's because you knew it wasn't good.  
It wasn't a good idea.  
I think you thought it would help but I don't believe it has done.  
I hate that you broke what you did. How dare you take yourself away from me for good  
How dare you  
How dare you make that decision and ignore my pleas.  
How dare you cause me this much suffering without being there to help me through it.  
All I have is a fucking notebook of words I've written.  
All I have is photos and memories but you're not there.  
And you've left me.  
You selfish bitch.  
It burns so much.  
And I don't want to sleep, I don't want to work of go to school or move  
I don't want to eat, neither do I want to die.  
I just want to caress your face again.  
Feel your fingers tickle me even if I hated it.  
Stare into each other's eyes and see the love I gave reflected back twofold.  
You fucked us all over.  
And you don't have to deal with the concequences. I do. He does.  
For that, fuck you.


	10. Day 5

Today I went to ikea.  
I have issues with spending when I’m sad, I think you knew that.  
You knew so much about me.  
I try so hard not to blame myself.   
But all I can think is ‘could I have done better’,  
‘did I not do enough’,  
‘was I not good enough’.  
I spent 110 pounds.  
I think im trying to feel better through spending and home décor.  
I’ll tell you when it starts working.  
I wanna reach out to E again but that is a quite awful idea.  
Today was fine.   
I found it ive lost far too much weight though. Dropped 7kg in about 2 months, but I think that was mainly from this week.  
I think that’s worrying.  
I assembled my furniture, E got his results back. I’m not sure if he got lower than he wanted, I think so.  
I called with B this evening, B is R by the way, not that you wouldn’t know that. She and I messed around and had fun.  
I don’t always feel real.   
I’m tired. Goonight.  
 


	11. Day 6

I woke up this morning and was depersonalising from the start. Its a weird feeling - I was applying make up but I was confused about who's skin I was touching.   
In having a bad day. Its been a good day, I was with W from 8am to 2:45pm but I just feel awful. Some days are like that though.   
I miss you.   
I threw a photo wrapped in white and green yarn in the river by the construction yard and then ran off sobbing.   
That means something to us but no one else. 

I miss you. I feel disconnected from everything, and money and friends can't fix that.   
I'm plodding through life, trying to find meaning or someone who understands how I'm feeling, but my family just doesn't.   
And I can see my dad getting angry and not knowing what to do   
And I just sit in my room surrounded by the carcasses of my belongings and cry.   
Ill cry for every part of you you stole from me.   
Ill cry for every second I didn't get to spend with you.   
Ill cry for everything I'll miss about your perfection.   
For all the time that I've lost   
For all the memories we still hadn't made   
The plans we didn't acchieve   
But you're gone.   
Sometimes it feels real, and other times im cackling whilw removing my eyebrows with a cheap razor.   
I can't accept it.   
I don't want to.   
Because you're never coming back to me.   
You're never coming back go me.   
And that rips apart my soul  
It leaves me shattered in my bed on a mattress with nothing but memories of you.   
Of us.   
Goodnight. I love you.   
I love you.   
Not loved.


	12. ...

Dear sister,  
We didn't break up. He killed himself.  
I don't care if it's not physical  
so you think it's different  
but its really  
not very different at all.  
His shadows still creep along my mind.  
And his body still feels so close and distant.  
If anything its worse.  
I don't get a funeral. I don't get understanding.  
I get school and 'oh, yeah, sorry you broke up that's rough. Anyway, chemistry was really-' 

I can't 'not mourn him like if it was physical'  
or whatever you said because you don't see or understand what's wrong.  
Because its not that simple  
and it doesn't feel like that. 

It feels horrendous. It feels worse than loosing a limb. It feels like being ripped apart from the inside and the outside and pretending to be happy to friends who you know will never know you. 

We were so fucking close to each other,  
and he left me.  
And he left me.  
He was heaven to the touch  
He was my future in a body  
And I may be young but I could see so far with him  
I could see so far. 

And I can't help but blame myself  
Wonder what I could have done better.  
But I know he said I was enough.  
And he loved me more than perhaps anything that wasn't his siblings.  
But I'll never see him again, sister.  
And he has left me.  
And im so fucking done with you and mum  
pretending its not as big of as issue as it is.  
Becuase I can't be awake without thinking of him.  
I can't sit still without crying.  
I can't think without sobbing.  
I can't eat, I'm just not hungry at all. 

So just  
Recognise that. 

I'm in mourning.  
And I feel broken beyond repair.  
And you didn't do much but minorise it to me.  
And I keep seeing shit that romantisises death  
and suicide  
everywhere  
people keep making suicide jokes  
maybe this is what it's always like but everything is like a dagger now  
And I'm just in so much pain  
Its a knife that doesn't stop twisting.  
And its a coil that doesn't stop barbing your insides.  
So please don't think I'm okay.  
I'm really fucking not.  
I'm just so not. 

\- a note to my sister, slightly more dramatised for this book.


	13. Day 7

Good morning.   
I'm behind schedule, which I distaste.   
But you know that, I was always over 10 minutes early to our dates by accident.   
But I'm still 25 minutes early to school.   
In actually quite compulsively, perhaps obsessively organised usually, however.   
Maybe I just don't always show it.   
Until I get stressed. Then you see it everywhere.   
Until I get sad, then its nowhere and I spiral— 

Then I do things i'm not happy with.   
I sleep too much, I eat too little, I don't do my work.   
I'm so far behind in life   
but like is like a bus that won't stop for a running passenger,   
its just too fast to jump on, and just too slow to not try-   
And I'm running   
I'm running, along with the bus   
A jerky and frantic movement that feels so wrong   
When all I want is to lie down 

And be buried in the pavement. 

Swept away by the cleaners,   
Pulled into the gutter by the falling rain like an autumn leaf past its calling. 

 

So I run with the bus. 

Sometimes I run ahead, and I get lost and confused but I wait   
and I twirl and   
before I know it they bus has gained on me   
and its taking a different route to what I thought   
Its already travelled on to a new page   
And I thought I was doing well but now I'm flailing again, and my sense of acchievement has fallen into a sense of abandonment. 

Maybe one day life will learn to keep pace better.   
Maybe one day the bus will follow my twirls.   
Maybe one day I'll be an excellent runner, and the bus will stop for me. 

But not today.   
Not today when my naps are the only solitude and my father is far too confused by why I'm so upset.   
Not today when I start eating again but I eat too much.   
Not today when I don't know how to feel or how to write or how to cry.   
Not today when my tears feel both everlasting and never-coming. 

Not today when I forget that you've left me. 

Not today when the last line makes me hyperventilate, but I still salivate over E in a suit.


	14. ...

I've learnt to accept men  
who learnt to respect women  
the way their fathers do to their mothers.


	15. Day 8

Its 15:33,   
and Zee is warm and soft lying near me   
under the covers.   
But it was 11:37 and I was sat in a math's classroom writing "i'm sorry"s into a little silver leather notebook.   
And it was 10:24 in English and I was crying while W told me it's not my fault and J tried to not focus on it. She got me tissues.   
But it was only 33ish minutes and 8 days ago   
when you walked into my house with a sad expression on your face and hugged me so tightly I knew I wouldn't see you again.  
It was maybe 15:20   
when I let you drink some of my hot chocolate,   
and '25 when you told me about you having yelled at Mr R, and I sipped my hot chcolate as I listened to your story.   
And it was maybe '35 when I started to cry.   
I'm sorry for when I was angry, ever at you.   
I'm sorry for when I was snappy, and when I was mean.   
Your world wasn't soft enough to you.   
I could see that in the way you cuddled me.   
Sometimes it was far more maternally-loving than anything else.   
I think you just needed to be small sometimes.   
And to be happy without judgement.   
To be able to smile and joke around,   
And maybe you had that elsewhere   
but it was definitely my charm.   
My thoughts to you are:  
I hope you're in jennah,   
I hope you're happy,   
I hope you get what you need there, the things that that the world was far too selfish to give you. 

 

Good afternoon; its 15:42, 22/01/2018.


	16. Day 9

Dear you,   
Its day 9. I don't understand how it can be day 9, you were in my arms so recently.   
I missed a lot of days last week, I don't really know where they went. I know I ate, slept and attended school but I don't remember any of it.   
W has the same thing.   
W is a lil bit of a mess.   
But then who isn't?   
E dislikes me a lot.   
Its okay, he doesn't need to. Or at least he doesn't need to say he does.   
I think he lies sometimes.   
But again, who doesn't.   
I tried not to lie to you. I don't like lying to people.   
I disliked it when you saw the worst in me.   
That's never what I wanted you to see,   
I wanted you to see me in metaphorical flower crowns, with daisies in my smiles and leaves in my hair.   
Messy and cute and happy.   
I wasn't always happy, but I tried to be when around you.   
You knew that.   
I broke a few times too often, but I was in large part supportive and happy.   
That doesn't mean I was fake, I wasn't fake, hun   
I was just my best self because its what I do with people like you.   
Back to E.   
E doesn't like me - that much is clear.   
Again, he doesn't need to. That too is clear.   
But I wanna make him.   
Because I'm really not that intolerable, at least not as bad as face value perhaps.   
AndIhaveacomplexaboutneedingtobelikedbypeopleI'vechoosentohavelikeme 

Anyway 

Good morning, I love you.   
I'll try not to cry in school today.   
Its too hard to try to be happy though.   
Everything is so saturated in pain, like the pens in using aren't spreading ink, the perfume bottle doesn't spray perfume, the sheets have been muddied with guilt and confusion.   
Its 06:27. I love you.   
Good morning.


	17. ...

Dear A,   
My feet and legs keep going numb   
Maybe they too don't want to be here any more.


	18. ...

[24/01, 00:41] Me: I  
[24/01, 00:41] Me: I can't do this honestly  
[24/01, 00:41] Me: Like  
[24/01, 00:42] Me: Im just  
[24/01, 00:42] Me: So spaced out  
[24/01, 00:43] Me: Like i was in physics todsy  
[24/01, 00:43] Me: And i was taking notes  
[24/01, 00:43] Me: But i just didn't really know why  
[24/01, 00:44] Me: Because  
[24/01, 00:44] Me: I just don't really have any concept of time right now  
[24/01, 00:44] Me: And i don't really know what's going on or what I'm doing  
[24/01, 00:44] Me: And i don't understand why I'm doing classwork or homework it doesn't feel like mine  
[24/01, 00:45] Me: I don't actually understand why it's useful and sure i can tell you exactly why it's useful im not being lazy  
[24/01, 00:45] Me: Its just i have no clue why I'm doing work for who ever i am  
[24/01, 00:45] Me: Like my disconnect is really really high  
[24/01, 00:45] Me: And  
[24/01, 00:45] Me: Im so fucking confused  
[24/01, 00:46] Me: *fingerguns*


	19. ...

I feel scattered   
Over different dimensions   
But not earth.   
I don't feel whole   
I feel like I'm running through life   
Through school and home   
But I'm not part of my body   
I'm beside it   
And it's terrifying   
Terrifying to know that my skin is only a canvas   
That my mind can't realise reality   
That through work and play i don't know what to do   
And i can't focus   
Because i don't understand why i need to   
I can't make sense of anything   
Because nothing seems real   
And i don't know why i need to take notes   
Or do my homework   
When i don't feel like this is my body   
Or this is my work   
Or why this is what i need to do


	20. Day 10

I didn't get up this morning.   
I got out of bed, wrapped myself in a fluffy pink bathrobe and told my dad who waited in the car   
that today i couldn't.   
He said that was okay, and told me to get some sleep.   
Then i went and lay in my bedroom and shut my eyes,   
But i couldn't feel them as part of me.   
So i shook with fear and fell asleep.


	21. Day 11

Day 11  
Maybe the human soul wasn't meant to take this,  
But people are right when they say it's the strongest thing on earth.  
Today was really quite okay.  
I didn't go to school again, I started crying last night and quickly realised I couldn't do it.  
Instead I slept until 9, got a new phone and had some chips. Tomorrow my friends come over.  
It will be nice to see them.  
They're good people.  
I miss you - we all know that.  
But I miss you.  
I miss the way you touched me everywhere physically and metaphorically.  
I miss how I never wanted anything to be off bounds.  
I miss watching you through slightly closed eyes.  
Touching your hair as you talked about useless but interesting tbings.  
Twirling your short curls around my fingers.  
Brushing my fingers through your eyebrows, which I think you found confusing.  
I miss how you kissed.  
So fucking passionately.  
I miss how I kissed back with the same amount of force and how we both were so happy.  
Or maybe we weren't, maybe I wasn't but in those moments we were.  
I miss how you'd walk in and look sad, and leave happy.  
And how I put smiles on your face like a painter over a beautiful canvas.  
I miss your softness with me.  
Your playful foolishness.  
The way you were so excited to see me, and happy to show that.  
I miss how much you loved me.  
How much you fucking loved me.  
More than anyone ever had, outside of my family.  
I miss what we had.  
That fucking unexplainable bond.  
I miss how we always knew what the other meant.  
How I never needed to explain myself to you.  
I miss discussing people as four-letter-combinations that were almost our code.  
I miss texting you goodnight.  
I miss kissing you goodbye.  
I miss asking to move sides so I'm on the left, and you being confused by why but moving anyway.   
I miss you asking my why. I miss not knowing the answer.  
I miss our awkward sexuality.  
I miss your offensive humour that you knew I wanted to scold you for.  
I miss every part of your soul and body and mind.  
And I miss how it felt like it was made for mine.


	22. Day 12

I got home from dinner and helped my dad clean my room.   
We washed all the surfaces, cleaned my bed and then, after, I will tidy it.   
Hide all my possessions and reorder my surfaces.   
Put away the traces of complete desolation, and days of not being able to move.   
I'll embrace the smell of lemon scented peroxide and freshly laundered sheets.   
Perhaps then I'll forget all the memories i've had in this room.   
Maybe then I'll forget how you tucked me into bed before you left   
Because you didn't want me to see you walk away.   
Because you didn't want to see me as you did that.   
Maybe then I'll forget how I got out of bed straight after the door closed 

And fell to the floor in agony. 

I didn't know noises could bring so much pain.   
I didn't know a door shutting quietly could hurt worse than a bullet slicing through flesh. 

I didn't know that at half 23 that night I would tell you I loved you for the last time. 

That I'd wake up in the morning and be a 'widow' without the ring.   
I didn't understand what sadness truly felt like until the moment when it hit me that you were gone.   
But when was that moment?   
I had begun to mourn you far before the day you died. 

Today I walked along a road i'd once walked with you and I almost started crying.   
I had to leave as soon as I stepped onto the tiles.   
You were in the cobbles,   
You were in the signs,   
The banisters,   
The waters edge.   
And its the same with every place I've come across.   
Like I need to bury you at every location.   
I need to sit down and remember how we were, how you pulled me under your arm and I used to like it even if it annoyed me.   
I need to hold still and let the agony of your actions flow over my body.   
I need to remember how your warmth felt.   
Your hand in my hand felt.   
I need to see you in the shape of who i'm stood with.   
But it's a task I never wanted to do.   
It's a task you've forced upon me, and it burns like ice and fire and salt in the same wound.   
The same wound that's flimsy excuse for healing falls apart with every different room in my house or road in my area.   
And I don't want to have to miss you.   
I wanted to have you forever.   
I wanted that so much, in the oldest way possible.   
I wanted to have your kids.   
To raise them in a home with mismatched views, and to make it work.   
I wanted to love you until you finally trusted that I did.   
But I will forever.   
No one can compete with a ghost.   
And hopefully I'll never meet a dick who will try to.   
Hopefully they'll understand that you're a puzzle-piece that remains if I lose   
other parts of my body, or mind, or soul.   
You're a boat in a harbour with other boats, but you're made of steel stronger than anything.   
Your anchor is so deep its in earth's core.   
Your hold of my heart can never disapear. 

Because you're a memory. 

A beautiful, yet painful one.


	23. Day 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first song I ever wrote for him,   
> He loved it.   
> He was impossible to protect, though.

Intro: G, C, D   
Only strum bottom 3 strings. 

I want you hide you   
I want to keep you safe   
want to share you   
Share every breath you take 

I want to know you   
Not keep you swept away   
You're not my secret   
You're every step I take 

But baby, baby when I saw you   
I knew, oh I knew,   
You were something different,   
You were something new.


	24. Day 14

The day isn't starting or ending.  
Its half way through, and i'm sat in a yellow tunnel with R.  
The other day I discussed this book with 2 people, both of whom said it brought them to tears, or similar.  
I'm happy to know my work has meaning.  
That my work makes people reconsider why they shouldn't leave.  
Makes them understand what fractures they leave behind in the world, that they don't have to face,  
But we do.  
We feel the destruction in our souls,  
We mourn your bodies with our minds and souls.  
We watch every part of us fall apart,  
And we have to put us back together  
Or we break further.  
We're broken, and we're damaged  
by a choice we didn't get to make.  
We're given grenades that are connected to our souls and then sparked so fucking quickly.  
But by that time the shrapnel has become part of us.  
The shards are so deep in our bodies that we can't remove them.  
And so we carry them.  
We carry them through love and loss and  
we wonder if we'll ever feel as bad as the moment when we knew you were gone.  
But what moment was that?  
It was, it is a long process.  
It was the moment you closed the door.  
It was the moments I lay in my bed and shook from the sheer panic and agony of losing you.  
It was the moment when I looked around my room, and finally understood that you would never be coming back to me.  
It was when I almost started crying because I saw a fucking shop banner.  
It was me ranting to W on a call 2 nights before you actually did it.  
Its everywhere.  
You're everywhere.  
You're so encompassing and suffocating and welcoming.  
Because without you I wouldn't be who I am.  
I wouldn't know what love that intense felt like.  
I wouldn't be able to say that I know what true, strong love feels like.  
And for that I thank you.  
Thank you; for giving me something so fucking wonderful.  
But also, fuck you - for taking it away.


	25. Day 15

The cotton my sheets are a warm embrace.  
They help me to forget the pain of not having you. 

Good morning, B stayed last night.  
Good morning; I don't know what to say.  
I don't know what to say to you. It hurts too much if I do.  
I write every day, but I haven't touched my diary in over a week.  
I can't find the words to talk to you.  
I miss you.  
I miss you so much.  
But I'm also growing away from you and your memory - I talk about you every day.  
I think about you every day.  
But I don't yearn for your touch and your words as much as I used to.  
And that's acceptance - and its healthy.  
But it means i'm accepting you're gone and that is terrifying.  
Its terrifying to realise that someone you love can disappear.  
They can fall away into the gloom and you can notice, but no one else does.  
And-  
I love you.  
I love you so much.  
And I'm sorry that that wasn't enough.  
I wish it was - dear Jesus I wish it was.  
But you still left me regardless.  
And I know you don't want me thinking like this.  
'Didn't', I suppose.  
But its hard because its true.  
I couldn't have done better, but I still wasn't enough.  
In the end, after the cuddles and the tears,  
I was never enough to keep you here.


	26. Day 16

Time is a human conception.  
A coping machanism, a planning mechanism.  
A way to control.  
Time was once decided by the sun and moon,  
By the waves and tides.  
So when did we start to feel trapped by it?  
We—  
Should be home by dark.  
In bed by night.  
Awake at dawn.  
Or at 8pm, at 11pm, at 6am.  
Why do trap people in 9-5's,  
In 8 hours of school,  
And maybe 8 hours of sleep  
Why does everything on this planet have to be fucking organised  
By digits that we, ourselves, gave creation to?  
Why can't we accept the sun and the moon again,  
Go back in time,  
Roll back the folds of existance and clocks,  
And let nature regain its power?  
Let the waves tell us when to finish work,  
Let the sun tell us when to rise,  
But not feel the need,  
To be up,  
At exactly 5:47am,  
Sunday  
through  
Thursday.


	27. Day 17

You let me hold your hand.  
So we did.  
We held both, in an ungodly-ly uncomfortable-to-look-at embrace.  
But that was the first time we had felt that from each other.  
That sense of strange wonderment at affection that wasn't forced or parental.  
We watched the screen, my head at yet another quite awful angle, leaning on your shoulder.  
I stayed in that position until I didn't feel the discomfort any more.  
Because I wanted to feel your warmth.  
I wanted to know what I saw in you, that I had only seen behind a screen.  
I wanted to feel what you felt towards me.  
And you ate salty popcorn, and I stole some even though I told you I hated it.  
And you laughed, and smiled at me.  
And we talked about the four-letter-code of the characters.  
I told you what I liked about the movie, and you listened to me mutter probably absolute bullshit for two and a half hours straight without complaint  
When no one else I know would.  
And I felt so happy.  
I felt so elated.  
So, I kissed your cheek.  
And you kissed my forehead,  
Then we repeated it.  
I can't remember if we kissed properly, but I don't think we did.  
We were just soft and unexpecting.  
And it was beautiful to see your radiance, your smile.  
And that, is one of the amazing early memories I still have. 

-an ode to my second date with a then-not-ghost.


	28. Day 17

Its cold out.  
I mean,  
its teeth-chattering,  
wind-blowing,  
quick-half-stop-strides-  
because  
you can't feel you legs, cold.  
I mean  
it's so cold that it reminds me of, maybe 2 years ago?  
when I was somewhere  
In England  
Sometime  
In Winter  
Some place with L.  
Or maybe K.  
Perhaps M.  
People who seem just a little too far away nowadays,  
When their lives move on just as fast as mine  
And with no overlap except Snapchat, or Instagram.  
I mean it reminds me of when  
I lived in a totally different world  
With totally different people. 

I mean,  
it makes me feel different to usual. 

It reminds me of running to the car  
to start the engine as soon as possible,  
And shivering and jumping while doing so  
As to try to wake up some part of my body  
that was too cold to remember how to work.  
Of wiggling fingers and white breath.  
And  
I don't know if that time was better  
Or if it was, just a time.  
And maybe I'm happier now, well, or I will be. 

When the snow settles  
When the heat picks up  
And when I can feel my fingers, legs and heart  
And I can mould my tongue to tell your story  
Without shuddering or euphamising every just-too-harsh letter.


	29. Day 18

Hi, today I cried at a table at 8pm.  
Hi, today I laughed far too hard at saying my words wrong as I grasped a marshmallow at 11pm.  
Hi, today I listened to a song and travelled to a new place but forgot my mind back in Milan.  
Hi, today I found out a friend tried to kill themselves last night.  
Hi, today I hugged W many times and I was happy.  
Hi, its been a really hard day.  
Hi, I love you. But not as intensely as once.  
Hi, I feel guilty that you're not always such a heavy weight on my conscience.  
Hi, I love you, but not the way you love a living person.  
Hi, I don't know how to miss someone who's 18 days gone.  
Hi, I love you like you love a corpse.  
Hi, its 23:52 and the hallway light is bright.  
Hi, I don't know how to love a corpse.  
Hi, I used to adore you.  
And I adore your memory.  
But I wish I had gotten more time to make you some memories.  
Hi, your eyebrows made me so happy.  
Hi, your eyes were so bright even if they were dark and stormy when I wasn't there to be your light.  
Hi, I'm so sorry that you left.  
Hi, but I known you don't want me to blame myself.  
So, hi; I love you.  
Goodnight.


	30. ...

It’s been a day.   
Maybe  
A long one.   
That’s what people tend to say,   
‘it’s been a long day.’ ‘I’m tired.’ ‘I’m going to go to sleep early today.’  
Maybe they do.   
But I never do when I say that.   
I’ll still stay up until 2am.   
And I’ll say I’m tired again tomorrow.   
Maybe it’s a truth.   
But maybe I’m just so tired of the worlds bullshit that it shows when I wake or sleep.


	31. Day 19

Everything moves forward.   
Until there's a break in the chain   
And you fall apart again. 

He gave me a coin before I left on the 14th of the 1st of the 2018th year.   
It was some American coin.   
But he had a story behind it.   
And he found it in his favourite place.   
And maybe I'll get it back   
I think I'll break if I don't—   
But I left it   
Far away   
In Italy. 

And   
Mum   
Where is my necklace   
Oh my god   
I can't find it   
Mum   
This is the last thing I have left from him   
Mum   
I can't have lost it   
I can't have   
Its   
Mum its the only thing I have 

Let me look, give me your handbag.   
Look in your soap bag.   
Text W.   
Has she replied?   
I'll text my friend.   
She can get in touch with the apartment owner  
I don't feel like its lost, ______. 

How do you know,   
You lose things all the time 

But I know when I've lost things, ______

Maybe my mum is a remeberall   
Maybe she is trelawney   
Maybe she has that 6th sense that she tells me about sometimes   
Maybe she's just omnipotent or   
Good at White lies   
But, please lord.   
Let her be right. 

But right now 

But what I do know 

Is that I can't find the only thing   
That kept him next to my chest.


	32. Day 20

Heya, good evening, howdy.   
I think I'm okay today,   
I slept a lot of it though, so maybe I wasn't and I was just hiding it.   
I went to bed at almost 4am, got up to yoga at almost-5am, then got up again at midday to yoga again and finally stayed awake.   
Then I went up to see my dad.   
He has a beard now, we would've laughed about it together.  
Then we agreed to make dinner, and so we did about 7 hours later.   
He made some chicken and I made a risotto.   
It had too much pesto but everyone said it was lovely, so prehaps it was okay. 

Risotto is lovely and easy, though I'm angry about that pesto situation.   
You would have told me a story about risotto or called it white peasant food, knowing your sense of humour and constantly storytelling. 

I tasted it thrice before I served it, though the first time I burnt my tongue very badly.   
So I could not taste said risotto when I served it.   
Which, again, is annoying. 

I cleaned the kitchen today, so much clutter builds up.   
So I organised it.   
Brought in some of my jars and holders and boxes   
To fit in all my father's items   
And I worked for 4 hours maybe   
Rarely stopping   
Just cleaning   
And eventually ranting   
Because the emotional strain of sorting the cutlery drawer   
Was too much it seems   
With corkscrews,   
And nail files,   
Hair trimmers,   
One single felt tip pen in blue,   
And I wondered where the space for the cutlery was. 

So I cleaned.   
And then I went to lie down, and ate perhaps 200g of dairy milk. 

Then I made risotto. 

Today isn't a good story, sorry, I'm a little scattered and busy and gone. 

I love you, na night darling.


	33. Day 21

So I'm back at school.   
This morning I woke up after sunrise, did yoga and stayed up.   
Made a hot chocolate.   
Then I went into school and was reminded by why I hated it.   
I remembered every second of time I'd spent watching you walk around.   
I remembered all of our glances and my feelings and the building felt far more like a morgue than a place of education.   
It seems like written on the walls is 'rip',   
but only I can see it.   
And it burns.   
It burns being followed by a walking ghost of you.   
But someone who doesn't care about me.   
And I don't mind.   
I don't care.   
I loved you, I love you, not him.   
But it cuts like a knife to stand at my locker   
and wonder when the haunting will begin.   
And I hyperventilate   
And I try to calm down   
But then my chemistry teacher talks about suicide   
And my form tutor listens to my complaints and tells me that she's nice, really, but says he'll tell her not to talk about such in class again.   
And I tell myself to calm down   
And wish she wasn't at this school.   
That she would hold her fucking tongue   
Before telling students that sucide is disgusting and should be punishable.   
And I wish that people   
Who know nothing   
Would. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.   
About matters   
They haven't experieced.


	34. Day 22

Well,  
Today.   
Today was horrific.   
Today had me sobbing to 4 different groups of people in the space of an hour and a half.   
Today had me being told I wasn't valid without a note from a doctor saying I had any type of panic disorder.   
Today had me being ripped apart by a teacher who pretended to know how I felt.   
And today had me terrified to go back into school. 

Today has me wishing I never had to go in again.   
Never had to have PE again,   
Or face said emotionless teacher.   
Today had me having a really good conversation with a teacher I priorly hated oh so fucking much.  
And today had me in a state of complete disress for about 2 hours. 

Today was the worst school day I ever had. 

But today also had my dad telling me panic attacks was normal but at the same time thinking panic attacks were just being stressed.   
Today had my mum having a really good and helpful approach to what I was telling her, and my thoughts and emotions towards school   
and you   
and everything else.   
Today had W having a lil mental breakdown, and me spilling my guts to R, J and A for quite a long time while crying and mildly hyperventilating.   
Today had me being told I needed to see a councellor, to which I agree. I should.   
But it means explaining my story once again, and everything that comes with it. 

And its awful. And I hate it.   
And I hate how I have said story.   
And I hate how you're not gone.   
And I hate how I was left crying on the sports field my a teacher who supposedly had personal experience of panic attacks, and then preceded to tell me I could cry all I want   
That it wouldn't help my case.   
That I was perhaps faking to get away with not having my kit.   
And the bell had rung.   
And people were everywhere. 

Today had me terrified to go back to school.   
Had me terrified to miss school.   
Had me terrified of seeing said PE teacher again. 

And had me feel so completely crushed and debilitated by something I couldn't control, and feeling awful because of that.


	35. Day 23

I can't believe it's almost been a month,   
But the juxtaposition of where I live and back on break in Italy is so stark in contrast that it pulls to attention all of the   
cracks in my surface. 

All of them.

And it's so hard to keep breathing sometimes.   
I don't mean in the suicide way, I mean the metaphorical in-my-head type of way.   
Its hard to keep my head above the water when the normal pool turned to a 12 meter diving tank and to a tsunami-wrecked ocean is about 3 days, 3 hours, 3 seconds. 

And I try to seem okay for everyone around me. 

But so many days you're all I think of.   
And only my friends really seem to know what I mean when I tell them im in pain. 

Because no one can understand my situation other than them, from the 5 people who I've told. 

And no one else can see just how much agony my soul is in with every step taken in that fucking prison called school   
that you glide like nearly-headless-nick around. 

Because we both went there 23 days ago.   
And we had so many plans.   
And so many memories. 

Like when you quite awkwardly asked me to the movies and I screamed about it with my mates after,   
and I think you may have seen me happy dancing and smiled. 

Like when you were about to take one of your gcse's and you came down from the science labs where you were studying, looking very stressed and very ruffled but very hot regardless. And you just said 'Hey' or whatever and we spoke a tiny bit. 

And I just miss everything about how we used to be. 

I miss how I used to feel.   
I miss focusing in lessons and not hyperventilating when I don't know answers. 

But what I miss the most is it not being bad enough that I have to explain it to my school   
and parents   
and everyone just to be allowed to step out of class. 

And I miss my less-unusual problems that were still fucking crazy. 

And I.   
Miss.   
You.   
So.   
Much,  
A. 

Please just fucking come back to me.   
Please just tell me that this has all been an elaborate scheme or dream or nightmare.   
That you love me.   
And maybe that would make you fucking insane.   
But then you'd be alive.   
You'd be alive again.   
And I could hold you again.   
And feel your heart beat too fast because I was there.   
And see you do dorky shit with a smile and a really bad joke or pun.   
I wish I could just see you again.   
Hold you again.   
Feel that love again.   
And not cry at night every 3 days, again. 

I wish you were mine from above the grave, again.


	36. Day 24

Hey, hun.   
I called you hun a lot.   
Its my satiracle nickname for people but   
You really liked it   
And you didn't seem to get too much love   
So i gave you what i had.   
Over and over again.   
Because you deserved it.   
And you always will.   
But its from beyond the grave.   
You'll always deserve love.   
I just wish   
You had enough   
To stop you   
From leaving me.


	37. Day 25

Hey hun,   
I hate my dad when i look at how he acts.   
I hate how he treats my mum.   
She's not an angel, she can be mean and rough round the edges but she loves him more than anything. 

And to see her get ignored   
And pushed aside   
Because he doesn't feel like talking to her   
Or he's mad at her   
Is like a knife drawn through flesh. 

Especially when i look at how i treat my friends.   
My sister.   
You. 

And then i see how he treats the same. 

And i hate his idiocy and lack of appreciation for all he has. 

And the people who have given him that. 

A teacher told him 'a close friend of mind had committed suicide', as which is what i has told them.   
They told my dad because i specifically asked them not to.   
He interpreted it as 'shes being metaphorical and saying the break up was a suicide' 

Like I'm someone 

Who would throw around words. 

Like I'm someone 

Who would ever 

Ever 

Say anything was like suicide unless it was the act its self. 

Like he can't dig deep enough 

To realise i told him a friend tried to commit the other day. 

Like he can't use his fucking brain 

And understand I'm not the type of girl to equate death to the death of a relationship. 

 

And he can't see my suffering under a veil of cooking at midnight.


	38. Day 26

Hey babe,   
You came over a lot in late summer.   
Just before the summer holidays.   
And we messed around, and hung around, and went on hunts for milkshakes that i didn't want to have coffee in but   
They had coffee in.   
And we sat on sandy construction yards and found each other in those lovely, and perhaps awkward moments.   
And we came back to mine and you stayed out so late.   
And left at maybe 1am or later.   
And we were so happy.   
And everything felt good   
and pure   
and new   
but natural.   
And we were an us, and i know how much i loved that.   
I loved knowing i had you.   
And that we used to call and talk and more.   
And we didn't feel so trapped.   
And we were just an us.   
An us in a big world that wasn't accepting but we didn't feel so rejected back then.   
And we were just we.   
And that was so okay.   
And we took a few photos in which we were always grinning like fools.   
Because we couldn't hold serious or good faces in each other's company.   
And even past the honeymoon phase we were the same.   
And calling each other doofus and other silly names.   
And baby, i loved you.   
And i still do.   
I love you, A.   
But I'm accepting everything.   
And i think I'm nearly ready for you to be a memory.   
But saying that feels like a blade in my chest,   
Feels like a lie,   
Feels like cheating.   
And i know it's what you wanted me to do.   
To find happiness and move on and find another who would love me with the time they had, more time thus you had. 

But we were so closely interlocked that   
Losing you was the worst thing I've ever experienced in my life.   
You deserve everything good.   
Deserved.   
And I'm so  
So   
So sorry   
That this world couldn't see that.   
And didn't give you much that wasn't hate or negativity.


	39. Day 27

The truest kind of sob, for me, maybe not for you,   
Is the type that has that high pitched wail   
Of complete despair.   
And agony.   
And it cuts through your body and breaks your walls.   
And to make it.   
You need to taste true sadness.   
And desperation.   
And you have every word in your head   
Quickly and intensly try to make you calm had make you cry   
At the same time   
And to not understand why my mind wants me to hurt   
So much that it always tries to make me cry longer   
And tells me   
That my pain isn't valid because i don't always feel it   
And tells me that   
I'm not mourning properly   
Because I'm building a band aid   
With platelets   
And effort   
And i don't need the puss of my minds toxicity to seep into my wound again   
And create such damage   
That it only wants to build upon.   
And i only want to accept.   
But my mind will still tell me I'm wrong to persue happiness and finality and acceptance.   
And I'm sorry, A, for trying to.   
But i know it's exactly what you want of me.   
But i still feel like its wrong of me   
To try and mend myself   
When you left only 27 days ago.   
I'm sorry   
I'm so sorry   
That you weren't happy.   
But I'm so thankful   
That i know truly and deeply   
That i made you fucking happy.   
And maybe that is enough.   
Because i gave you that you deserved, most of the time.   
And i'm so fucking sorry that i yelled at you a couple times and bit with my words a few to many as well.   
But i will never be sorry that i travelled with you through roads and days and months to the end of you life.   
Because it was the happiest and most complex time of my life.   
But i just wish.   
That that could of been our forever.   
And we could of been an us   
Until we died   
Together   
At 90   
In a bed holding hands   
And completely infatuatedly in love with one another.   
For infinity.   
For 'Always and Forever.'   
Goodnight.


	40. Day 28

When the person who raised you for most of your life   
Becomes the most negative part of it 

You begin to wonder;   
Where did it go wrong?   
Did his parental goodness fall away with each lb   
Did it get brushed up with the sand in the desert   
Did it leave as soon as we touched down in this dusty town?   
Or was it like this far before   
and i was too young to notice the idiocy and distasteful actions crawling under his skin   
Written like ink across his body   
When he would talk about the fat people across the road stood next to his not-too-tiny wife.   
Like when he didn't let her kiss him goodbye in the mornings.   
And maybe it was when i realised that he could never be anything like the person he wanted me to marry   
Because he was was far too trapped in his ways to realise that calling us women shouldn't be an insult,   
But he would still meant it as such.   
Because we're hormonal   
and bitchy   
and men aren't.   
As if there's such a big seperation naturally which isn't just due to the way we are raised   
Raised as boy and as girl and i-   
I wish he had taught me how to use an oven.   
How to cook without the loitering feeling of 'Iwant to do this hannah'   
Like he needs the conformation that he is best at something and so he didn't ask us to help.   
Like no matter how good my sister cooks, he will still say things like 'ah, ramen. That's what your sister must eat at uni, Hannah.'   
When she cooks better than him.   
And when will he understand simple things   
Like what i explain to him   
Why he's annoying me   
Or what I want   
Or the most basic things   
And just   
Stop   
Stop pretending   
He is a god   
When he is not.


	41. A month. Day 29

Hey   
Its valentine's   
I guess I'm meant to be more sad than normal but   
Its a pointless day.   
I woke up at half five and scrabbled to get dressed a I was late,   
Got to school and was hastled by a teacher about my homework deadlines though I've missed one piece of classwork in the 2 years I've attended that school,   
Was stressed about not having a pe top adequate for the current allowed uniform,   
Stressed about not having revised for the quick chem test,   
Stressed about not having a copy of Frankenstein,   
And all over just angered by my father once again.   
Its been a long day but it was all okay.   
\- The homework thing just irritated me,   
I knicked a shirt from the locker rooms,   
I revised in form and bullshit it,   
I found my Frankenstein. 

Tonight i made chips.   
Chips, or maybe we'd discuss weather they were meant to be called fries but   
We'd laugh at each other and talk and it would feel so amazing   
And i miss that but subconiously.   
I miss all the time i used to spend on you and how i didn't care.   
I miss having you be more important than so many things and i miss you coming round on Monday afternoons to snuggle and talk for an hour. 

Looking back at the last few times i met you   
I just think of how nice it was   
To listen to you talk   
And have you look happy around me.   
But I'll never see that again and I've accepted that.   
And I feel guilty for having done so but   
You were a chalice of water and fire and crappy jokes that i enjoyed because you told them.   
You were a pond full of awkward teenage-dom that i just accepted and loved even though you were a complete dork (and i reminded you). 

I love you.   
I love you.   
I really do and.   
I'm not sorry for that.  
Because you were so worth it.   
You brought so much meaning to my existance that i could never not love you for that.   
So goodnight, i find it so hard to write sometimes that i just don't but   
i try every day to get another chapter.   
I think i might stop soon but i don't know.   
I love you.   
I love you. 

Goodnight.


	42. Day 30

Author doesn't feel good.  
Author will take a break for a little while so she can come back when she's happy with what she is writing.  
Author realises that no one who isn't her friend reads this.  
Author wanted to write this bit anyway.  
Author says goodbye.  
'Goodbye!'


	43. The new beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 35

Day 35,   
The new beginning.   
Or the worst part.   
The lying.   
The deceit.   
And the lack of motivation.


	44. Day 150

We weren't angels.   
We weren't demons.   
We were souls, intertwined, dancing through their lands without knowing where we would land or where we would go.   
We were one, on those nights where we whispered I love you's through phones and held hands when no one saw,   
We were one.   
And I didn't know that always and forever would be your truth.   
Every day I'm cut by the blades of loneliness.   
Of rememberence.   
On 120/9 we pray for the soldiers who died in the wars.   
We but don't remember all the causalities that slip through the cracks of suburban life.   
Nobody except him and I hold the knowledge of us.   
Us.   
A power couple of secrets and passion and love.   
Us.   
Unimaginable happiness that came and went with the tides of circumstance.   
I will never stop loving you.   
No until the day that I die.   
I'll hold your memory wrapped in my soul like how we used to hold each other.   
I love you.   
And im sorry that this world wasn't fit form your heart.


End file.
